They emerged onto the street just in time to see the van disappearing down the road. Vyvyan eyed it a moment, then grabbed Neil by the shoulder and took of in a hurtling sprint, hippy in one hand, deck chair leg in the other – his two essential weapons.
"Oh wow, uncool man, I haven't run since my first year of school." Neil protested weakly.
Vyvyan ignored him and simply ran faster, miraculously catching up with the van. Since it didn't slow down, he launched Neil forwards and let go of him. The unfortunate hippy went sailing through the air like some strange, ungainly bird whose call was "This is just my luck; I never should have gotten out of bed this morning. Why is it always me?" He landed in the middle of the road with a thud, and Vyvyan watched expectantly as his plan came to a head – the front wheels of the van collided with Neil's body, bringing it to an abrupt halt.
"Oh yeah, thanks, thanks a lot Vyvyan, now both my legs are probably broken and I'll never be able to walk ever again." The living road block complained bitterly and was, as usual, ignored.
"What?" A surly, bearded man appeared at the window of the van, his jowls forming themselves into an angry sort of look along with his face.
Vyvyan popped up on the other side of the window with a pleasant grin. "Four of your biggest 99-ers with a flake and sprinkles, a can of Cola, a bag of gummy worms and…" He paused and looked over his shoulder at the approaching Mike and Rick. "…What do you want?"
"How is he going to pay?" Rick wondered aloud and straight into Mike's ear.
"I don't know, Rick, but it seems like our good friend Vyvyan is a man with a plan."
After orders had been made and the consumables handed over, the ice cream man, who vaguely resembled Father Christmas with a killer hangover, demanded payment of thirty-five pounds.
"Fascist!" Rick exploded in self-righteous anger. "Thirty-five pounds for this poxy lot? This is daylight robbery!"
Vyvyan turned to the People's Poet with a sly grin. "Ahaha, you're absolutely right." And with that, he brought the deck chair leg firmly down onto the ice cream man's head, knocking him out cold. Rick let out a panicked cry.
"Well, I've heard of…" Mike began, but before he could finish his much-needed injection of wit, he was hassled away by Rick, Vyvyan following with the ill-gotten loot. Well-gotten loot doesn't seem to be something that happens very often. Somehow, Neil managed to recover from his concussion and possible broken legs, and dragged himself up. Making profuse and anxious apologies to the unconscious man, he hurried after the others.